Of Wind and Clouds
by Leanne Quinzel
Summary: Skyrim is riddled with a Civil War that is going no where fast. Both sides are waiting for the same catalyst, but what if that catalyst doesn't wish to choose sides? Dovahkiin/Ulfric Stormcloak
1. Prologue

**Of Wind and Clouds – Prologue**

* * *

Civil war has swept over Skyrim. With the influx of Aldmeri demands, the banning of Talos Worship, and the onslaught of dragons, it was only a matter of time before the citizens of the fatherland began to revolt.

With High King Torygg dead after his duel with Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, the sides have been drawn; Imperial rule with Aldmeri Dominion backing, or Stormcloak revolt with perhaps a unique kind of support. War has drawn ever closer with the summit at High Rock allowing the Dovahkiin – Dragonborn – to supervise negotiations between the two sides. With Stormcloak footing now in Markarth and Imperial rule in Riften, tensions are running high and one city remains neutral. Whiterun.

Ulfric knows all too much about war. His opponent, Imperial General Tullius, does too. They know when to make a move, and that "when" is when they've won over Whiterun. But before they take hold of Whiterun, they need to win over the Dovahkiin.

Can the Dovahkiin stay true to her own beliefs or will those very beliefs be the undoing of Skyrim?


	2. Chapter 1 Invitations

**Of Wind and Clouds – Chapter 1 – Invitations**

* * *

The weary Dovahkiin sat in front of the fire in her Solitude home, Proudspire Manor. The fire crackled as it warmed the Khajiit's rich, auburn fur. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in curls a shade

darker. For a rare moment in her life, she was just wearing fur-lined boots and a blue corseted dress, trying her best to achieve relaxation.

A knock at the door awoke her from her internal struggle. She let a low growl slip from her lips as she sorely lifted herself from the chair. Her boots clicked on the floor as her footsteps drew closer to the

entrance.

Creaking loudly, the heavy wooden door slowly opened and she looked upon the meek courier in front of her. His eyes were darkened from exhaustion and the tiny hat upon his head leaned to the side. He let out a small cough, clearing his throat and went down upon one knee.

Rain was pouring from the sky and she was about to invite him inside when instead the courier pulled out an axe and offered it to her humbly. "Upon his Jarl's wishes, I present to you, Dovahkiin Minau, the axe of Ulfirc Stormcloak." Minau's eyes widened as she looked upon the Nordic axe. Traditional etchings carved into the blade pooled with water, running off the sides, as the well-oiled, leather handle repelled the rain with ease. It was a beautiful weapon, but this was not a gift. It was a warning.

She stepped out into the rain and took the axe from the courier. Minau looked into the nervous, young man's eyes and said calmly, "I will take this axe. Do not tell Ulfric I accept. Do not tell Ulfric I decline. You shall tell him I will visit him within a week's timing. Now rise up and step inside. I will not send you off to your death in this weather."

The courier bowed and walked inside. For the night, Minau gave the man a simple set of clothing while his uniform dried, and upon morning sent him on his way with a full belly. Minau followed suit and took one step outside before the unexpected was laid upon her through murmurs in the streets.

* * *

"Jarl Balgruuf!" The Dragonborn yelped as she ran into the bowels of the Blue Palace. The blonde Nord looked up from his stew with a disgusted look upon his wrinkled features and muttered, "You have some nerve showing your face around me, traitor." Minau made a noise of confusion. Balgruuf motioned towards the axe upon her hip, "I was able to refuse his axe. It looks like you were not. And you didn't even come to face me. I made you thane and protector of Whiterun and the thanks I receive is you allowing the Stormcloaks to invade my city!"

Minau stood in silence for a moment. "Traitor? I-I didn't even know there was a planned attack on Whiterun. Surely a message would have been sent…" Or so she hoped. "When did this happen?" She asked. Balgruuf eyed her suspiciously, "If you don't know anything about the attack, then why are you wearing Ulfric's war axe?"  
"I was on my way to return it to him. How… how could I have been so blind?"  
"You truly do not know about Vignar Gray-Mane taking my throne?"  
"No…"  
"The battle with Alduin must have exhausted you more than anyone could have imagined. It was only three days ago upon which I lost my throne."

Minau walked upon the stone floor as her ebony armor clinked together. She ran her hand through her hair and let out a sigh. Thoughts were rushing through her head and she felt her heart begin to beat faster. Had she really been asleep for so long at her Solitude home? She stared into Balgruuf's strong set gaze, "I have been away for far too long, my Jarl. Please excuse me." The Dovahkiin rushed upstairs and out of the castle.

* * *

Outside of the city walls and far into the pale, Minau stopped for only a moment. She had chosen to dismount her palomino stallion Frost and stood rigidly in the chilled air as her black stallion Shadowmere followed behind. "Oh-Dah-VIING!" erupted from within her and the thu'um, or shout, rang off of the nearby rocks. A faint dragon's roar could be heard upon the wind and Minau took in a deep breath.

Suddenly a large roar erupted around her and a clay colored dragon landed in front of her. "I am here, Dovahkiin. Tol dreh hi hind do zu'u. What do you wish of me?" Minau bowed slightly to the lumbering beast and spoke to him gently, "Has Alduin ever spoke of the passing of time in Sovngarde?"  
"He used to tell me of how quickly time passed there. His favorite statement used to be that it made an eternity feel less… eternal. Hahaha…"  
"How long was my battle with Alduin?"  
"I beg your pardon, Dovahkiin?"  
"For how long was I away battling Alduin in Sovngarde?"  
"It had been within a week's time when I saw you upon the Throat of the World from when I flew you to Alduin's portal."

Minau struggled to keep her composure upon listening to Odahviing's answer to her question. It had been twilight when she arrived back to Tamriel's highest mountain from Sovngarde. From the Throat of the World she had galloped Shadowmere back to Solitude, a feat only such a magical beast could have accomplished. Within the city walls she had skulked to her home in the shadows, wanting only rest. Her housecarl, Jardis, had sworn to wake her within a day's time.

Could nine days really have been enough time for Ulfric to plan to and take over Whiterun? Minau wasn't going to wait to find out. She leapt back onto Frost, bid farewell to Odahviing, thanking him for his time, and spurred her horses on into the Pale.

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**A/N: Story statuses are on my profile page. I try to update them frequently. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	3. Chapter 2 Snow

**Of Wind and Clouds – Chapter 2 –Snow**

* * *

The conditions within Whiteshore, or its better known name, The Pale, had worsened by night fall. With the torrential down pour of snow blinding her vision, Minau led her horses into a nearby wood, hoping the trees could provide some sort of shelter. She leapt down from Frost and held on tightly to the two sets of reins in her hands, fumbling into the blurred trees before her.

Finding a sufficient clearing in the scanty forest, Minau removed her ebony helm, letting snow freely fall upon her fur and mane. She followed suit with the stallions, removing their bridles, allowing their large lips rest from a pulling bit. From off of Shadowmere's back, the Dovahkiin hauled off a sturdy roll that she proceeded to untie, revealing it to be a leather tarp that harbored carefully formed metal poles. From these she formed a tent, its back against two trees that had grown together.

Without further ado she cleared a small spot in the snow right beneath the leather tarps over hang and laid down her bedroll. The storm was keeping her from searching for wood and she decided to wait until everything slowed down. For the time being she formed a small orb of light with her hands, something called a mage's light, to fright away the dark, and to shine on her horses. Minau's tail instinctively wrapped around her, and she held it close to keep it warm.

She thought back to her father, a dark-haired Nord that was always hearty and quick as a whip. He used to pick Minau up in his strong arms during the wintery months, and tell her he was jealous of her fur keeping her so warm. The little feline always giggled with the reply that it was his Nord blood that kept her warm.

A smile crept onto the Dragonborn's face as she then thought of her mother. She was a strong robust Khajiit with dark brown fur and Imperial blood running through her veins that thought nothing of falling in love with a Nord. She had even given birth to a dark-brown haired Nord before Minau, and afterwards another healthy Nord with lighter hair. Such were the blessings of the Aedra that represented Minau's family. It was from them that she learned that diversity was what made the world go round.

Having delved fully into her own thoughts, Minau emerged from them, only to find that the snow had stopped. A sigh of relief slipped from her lips and she walked over to Shadowmere. From one of the saddlebags she procured a bundle of twigs and a scrap of cloth. Tender was hard to find in several places within Skyrim and she had taken to the practice of carrying her own.

Outside of the entrance of her makeshift abode, she dug into the cold earth, making a dip to lay her dry stuffs. With a deep concentration and an opening of her palm, she produced a flame that ignited the twigs and cloth, starting a small fire. Minau exited the tent and walked into the forest to look for any felled trees.

Many of the trees in Skyrim had adapted to withstand the snow, however there were always those that could not withstand the weight so well, and uprooted themselves inadvertently, toppling over in tragedy. Minau had thankfully found such a specimen, and she hastily proceeded to take out her woodcutter's axe, cutting away the wet bark and taking the drier innards. Though still wet, this was as close as she was going to get to dry.

Once amply supplied she trudged back to her camp throwing a few pieces of the wood upon the small blaze. The first few minutes were nerve-racking, until the sweet sound of crackling signaled the wood would burn. Minau threw the rest of the wood into her tent and sat inside of her fur-lined bed roll feeling much richer.

The two stallions, rustling through the snow with their snouts, deeply stood in contrast to one another. Sensing that Minau was watching them, both horses looked up at her. This produced a chuckle from their owner, and Shadowmere went back to searching for ground edibles as Frost took to gnawing upon the bark of a nearby tree. The friendship between the two had been a strange thing, stallions often fighting each other for supremacy. Minau took it that Shadowmere's daedric lineage must've caused him to neither be male or female; no matter how many times his old owner had referred to him as a "he".

She continued to stare at the horses until her eye lids felt heavy, her mind clouded with childhood memories that could only be relived through reminiscing. She threw a few more pieces of dead wood upon the fire and settled into the bed roll. She did not often enjoy sleeping in armor, but the extra layer trapping her body heat was gladly welcomed, easing the Dovahkiin into a light sleep.

* * *

The sun hadn't yet reached its peak when Minau arrived at the outskirts of Windhelm. After leaving her horses at the stables, she stood wearily at the foot of the long stone bridge that led to the city doors. One step forward triggered a grapevine of shouts through the guards upon the walls, all to the extent of informing the Jarl of the Dragonborn's arrival. The pounding of her boots upon the ground seemed to echo in her ears as she drew closer to the door. Her heart beat mingled with the steps, and it seemed an eternity before her hand touched the wind-beaten, wooden door that separated the outside from the inside.

With a low, halting ache, the door opened only slightly, enough for a body to slip through, and Minau did just that. She took a few steps forward and shook off the shiver that had hit her unexpectedly. Even with thick fur and Nord blood, nothing can ward off the chill of apprehension.

Circling around the stately Candlehearth Hall, the local inn, Minau then worked her way towards the Palace of the Kings. She had never had much cause to enter the exalted halls, but today warranted a reason and she approached the palace doors. The two guards keeping watch at the doors greeted her and held the door ajar. A look of surprise and then gratitude passed her whiskers and she proceeded through the opening.

Upon entering, Minau gathered her thoughts and strode confidently towards the stepped throne at the end of the hall, upon which Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak was seated. With her entrance, Ulfric had lifted himself from the padded stone seat and stepped down, standing patiently. Minau came closer and closer until she was steps away from the Jarl, and she stared at him.

His face was set in a neutral expression, neither smiling, nor frowning, his forehead beginning to wrinkle with age, along with the corners of his eyes and the edges of his lips. His somber face was adorned with a neatly trimmed mustache leading into a small beard. Green eyes were dulled underneath a mane of shoulder length dirty blonde hair with two braids adorning each side. At one time or another, Ulfric may have been labeled handsome, but with the weight of the world upon his shoulders, his appearance had darkened.

"Dovahkiin Minua," Ulfric began, "what a pleasure it is to welcome you back to my court." Minau dropped to one knee and replied, "Jarl Ulfric, I have come to return your axe," and she thusly offered the exquisite weapon back to him as the courier had presented it to her. After a long pause, she lifted her head after feeling her palms becoming lighter with the removal of the axe. Placing a few fallen strands of hair behind her tall feline ears, she looked up at Ulfric and began to stand up.

The Jarl was weighing the axe in his hands, and sighed. He looked emotionally upon the weapon, and then turned the same gaze towards the Khajiiti woman in front of him. "You may have the body of a Khajiit, but I know you have the heart of a Nord. In time you will realize our cause is more honorable than that of the Empire." His words fell heavily from his lips, and Minau felt weak the moment the sound registered into thought. She needed to reply. "You ransacked a city of which I had been made thane of and took control of it. I had unknowingly left Whiterun unprotected and for that reason amongst others, I have not joined your cause."  
"Yet."

Minau held back a scowl and stood proudly, letting the word hit her and fall. Ulfric shifted his stance and began speaking again as he put his axe away upon his belt, "You are a smart woman Minau. A smart woman that is faced with a decision she must make. I may have battles upon my shoulders, both losses and victories, but without the backing of the Dragonborn, Skyrim is demoralized. We are the sons and daughters of Talos, and if his own child, you, turns against him, how can a nation stand? It cannot be done." Minau took the advantage of his pause to speak, "This is not my fight. I've done my battle with the world-eater and saved this world from destruction at the hands of Akatosh's firstborn. What more must I give this world before it is satisfied?"  
"Everything."  
"I am but a mortal."  
"You are a force to be reckoned with."

The two paused, contemplating one another's words. Minau slowly swallowed and looked at Ulfric, softly speaking, "Jarl Ulfric, I am but a humble Khajiit. Such a responsibility is being cruelly placed upon my shoulders by two nations. How can I manage two nations? I cannot." Ulfric tightened his jaw before his reply, "Perhaps your father's Nord blood is slowly being frozen underneath that fur of yours…" His eyes slightly lowered as he saw Minau's tail flick angrily.

The words hit the Dragonborn like a swing from a giant. Ulfric continued his argument, "The Empire tried to kill you when they had captured me and my men. They tried to wrongfully kill you."  
"They may have tried to kill me, but at least they did not try to do so based on my race. Have you also noticed they don't allow their cities to be segregated? I can't imagine a Skyrim where every city has a Grey Quarter." Ulfric stood a tad straighter. His ego had now been equally bruised.

Minau bowed to Ulfric, "I must be leaving Jarl," and turned on her way. Ulfric called out to her, "Perhaps you may accept an invitation to stay for the night in Windhelm." Without turning around, the Dovahkiin replied, "Not tonight. I have a few questions that must be answered," and with those words she opened the palace doors and disappeared.

Ulfric's housecarl, Galmar Stone-Fist, chose that moment to leave the war room and enter the main hall. He stood beside his Jarl and spoke gruffly, "What questions do you suppose she needs answering?" Ulfric took a breath and stood staring at the palace doors, "I can only think of one, and the answer can only be given by General Tullius."  
"Do you think she will join the Imperials?"  
"No. If they ask, she will tell them what she has told me."  
"What did she say?" With a smile Ulfric turned to his friend and said, "She is but a mortal."

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**A/N: Thank-you to all the new watchers and followers. This story is picking up a little pace now. For anymore statuses on the stories check my profile. Feedback is welcome!**


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